


the queens' lovers' devotees club

by nonisland



Series: gazebo ’verse [1]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Female Friendship, Gen, Meta, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonisland/pseuds/nonisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It had taken them a while to get to this point, the space after Isolt’s first tentative “I think we maybe have a lot in common?” to this moment when she reached out and looped an arm around Elaine’s shoulders and whispered “Men are </i>bastards<i>.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the queens' lovers' devotees club

**Author's Note:**

> Should you find something, whilst reading one of my stories, that offends you/is incorrect/could offend others/is in any way problematic, please please _please_ do not hesitate to tell me. I will never spew hate at you, I will never attack you, and I will _always_ thank you for taking the time to let me know.

It was Isolt of Brittany’s idea, but Elaine of Astolat loved it. She was the one who found them their clubhouse, a gazebo with glass walls that somehow blocked all sound. Isolt made curtains and Elaine made cushions to go with, to put on the wrought-iron patio furniture, though eventually they ended up throwing the cushions on the floor and sprawling on them. The furniture was more for pretty than anything else. Isolt’s curtains were green as the wide fields of Brittany, and Elaine’s cushions were lily-white, threaded with cobalt and slate-blue and silver like running water.

After a little while they realized they should have switched the materials, but by then they were used to the imperfect dust-darkness of the cushions and the way the sunlight came in like they were underwater, which Isolt always thought should make Elaine much more uncomfortable than it did.

“I like the water,” Elaine said when Isolt asked about it. She had more than enough good memories to counter the bad, she thought: peace and belonging, the soothing presence of water nearby. “That’s why I chose the river.” When Isolt still looked confused, she said, even more gently, “And I floated down to Camelot, you know, I didn’t _drown_.”

It had taken them a while to get to this point, the space after Isolt’s first tentative “I think we maybe have a lot in common?” to this moment when she reached out and looped an arm around Elaine’s shoulders and whispered “Men are _bastards_ ,” and Elaine let out a breathless giggle that might once have wanted to be a sob, and poured herself another cup of tea.

“Especially Galahad,” Isolt said, perfectly straight-faced, and Elaine spit tea across the room laughing.


End file.
